


Knife's Edge

by Asylos, Fish_on_the_tree



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asphyxiation, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, murderboner, so much sex, that's definitely happening there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-05-30 23:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asylos/pseuds/Asylos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fish_on_the_tree/pseuds/Fish_on_the_tree
Summary: Handsome Jack plans to see Pandora free of bandits, even if he has to kill them all himself. Giving up on his programming career, and disenfranchised with vault hunting, he turns vigilante. The last thing he expected was to have his interest captured by the bartender in a skag hole of a bandit bar. Someone who clearly wasn’t from around here, and had no idea what he was going to be dragged into.A collaboration between Asylos/Mirintala and Fish/Letters_in_Green.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Asylos/Miri notes: To any of my usual readers, there is actual descriptive sex in this one, thanks to the contributions of the lovely Fish/Letters_in_Green. Inspired by: https://violentcollisionofstars.tumblr.com/post/174865222524 Many thanks to Fish for letting me pull her down into this ship.)
> 
> Usual rule applies: / / is italics.
> 
> Chapter One posted as part of RhackJune.

“Out! Come on, it’s closing time, I want to clean up and go home,” Rhys said as he shooed the last of the bar patrons towards the door. “You too, Jimmy. Don’t pretend you can’t hear me, I know damn well you can, you lout.” He shoved the last straggler out and closed the door, turning the lock quickly before anyone tried to get back in. He leaned his forehead against the door and let out a deep sigh. “Finally. Damn bandits,” he muttered, keeping his voice low in case any were still waiting outside the door. “Better see how bad the mess is.” He turned to survey the room and let out a high pitched yelp as he collided with someone. “Oh shit, you scared the heck out of me.” He hoped the man hadn’t heard him cursing about the other patrons. He did not want to deal with an offended bandit while he was alone and this far from the obligatory shotgun under the bar counter. “Were you in the bathroom? Let me get the door for you.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about the door, cupcake, I’m not looking to leave.” The man rested his hands on the door, one on either side of Rhys, boxing him in. 

“We’re closed? You have to leave,” Rhys said, with the bravado of someone who was tired as hell and just couldn’t care anymore. He rested his hands on the man’s chest and tried to push him back out of his space so he could get the door open to show him out. 

The man quickly grabbed his wrists in an iron grip and pinned them against the door. He took Rhys’ chin in his free hand and looked him over. Rhys gulped. The man had such a presence Rhys felt him towering over him despite being somewhat shorter. The effect was amplified by the arching scar across the man’s face. “Name’s Jack, Handsome Jack, they call me.” Rhys’ eyes went wide. Everyone knew about the serial killer known as Handsome Jack, who had been mercilessly killing his way across Pandora. August had been complaining to them just that morning about losing business partners in the next town over. “And here’s the plan, pumpkin; I’m gonna fuck you against the bar over there, and then I’m going to kill you. Slice you right along here with my knife.” He dragged his fingers down Rhys’ chest and Rhys shivered at the contact. 

"Actually, that sounds like a great idea, and I think we can work something out, definitely, but maybe..” he said with a nervous chuckle, “we could skip over the second part?"

 

Jack laughed, sounding genuinely surprised and amused by the response. “Alright kitten, if you’re a good enough lay, maybe I’ll consider keeping you instead. What do you think of that, little Rhysie? Being owned by Big Bad Jack?”

Rhys bit his lip before replying. “Yeah, okay, that does sound good, but I’ll warn you, I can’t skip out on work or my boss will kill me.”

Jack wrapped his fingers around Rhys’ throat and leaned in close. His warm breath made Rhys shiver as the deep voice whispered right into his ear. “And I could kill you right now, leave your worthless corpse as a message for your boss to find in the morning. Which is a more pressing threat? I think it’s me, don’t you?”

Rhys nodded the best he could manage in Jack’s tight grip. 

“Good boy. Now let’s see if that mouth of yours is good for anything besides sass, shall we?”

Rhys gulped as he sank to his knees in front of Jack. He had the fleeting thought he should be yelling for help instead. Like that would do him any good in these godforsaken lands. He wondered if he should be crying and begging for mercy like a normal person, not pulling the man’s zipper down with excited, trembling fingers. It wasn't that he couldn’t feel fear, he wasn't stupid and didn't exactly have a death wish. He /was/ terrified, but something about Jack’s easy, deep voice in his ears had resonated within him, making him feel alive again. He hadn’t felt that way since the accident had stripped away his dreams for the future and got him stuck in this pisshole of a bar. In the endless monotone of Pandora, the asshole patrons and shitty pay he got after his debts, he haven't had the chance to get laid in what felt years.

Never mind a /real/ fuck.

Rhys knew his tastes ran on the weird side, maybe, but who’d care anyway if one little insignificant bartender liked the lightheaded feel of being restrained and used brought to the bed? Or the sharp focus a slap or two gave, freeing him from the bindings of the suffocating lull of his life. Or that his blood sang from the way Jack pulled his hair, forcing his eager mouth to take his cock deeper, suck harder, with hands braced on those muscled thighs and eyes watering from the strain, a high pitched whine forming in the back of his throat as his own cock ached in his pants for stimulation. Gods it’s really been too long if he’s getting off on the prospect of being killed, he thought. He wondered if Jack would allow him to touch himself; he felt painfully hard and desperately wanted release. He tried to subtly rub his thighs together in search of any friction while dutifully keeping up the work on the dick in his mouth. Forget being sliced up he’d burst if he didn’t get fucked soon. The occasional deep chuckle and low moans from Jack drove him mad and he loved it.

A sudden yank of his hair prompted him to release Jack’s now rock hard dick with a yelp. He looked up to that amused smirk and those mismatched eyes full of sinister promise. Rhys panted, saliva dripping from his tingling lips. Jack casually took half a step closer, pushed his foot right between Rhys’ legs to grind into his trapped erection. Rhys moaned and tried to rub himself harder on that leg, dignity be damned, but Jack had other plans.

There was the cold touch of metal on his lips, the flat of the blade smooth and unwavering against his heated flesh.

“Lick it,” came the command and Rhys obeyed without hesitation, pushing his tongue against the knife, teasing the edge of the blade. He was breathing hard, vision swimming while arousal sent electric currents along his spine. 

“Such an eager little whore, aren't you? Such a good boy, doing as you’re told so eagerly.” Jack's dark chuckle met an answering whine. “You want me to fuck you, want to get split on this dick until you can’t see straight, right sugar? Want me to give it to you real hard? Then beg.”

With a slight shock and the lingering taste of bitter ozone the knife flashed out of existence. Mouth freed, Rhys started pleading in earnest.

“Yes yes please fuck me I need it so bad please I want your dick oh yes pleaseplease -”

“Alright kitten, since you asked so nicely Jack will give it to you,” he yanked Rhys up from the floor and threw him face first into the counter. He hadn't bothered with his clothes, just grabbed Rhys’ pants and pulled them down. Rhys only had time to grab the wood and hold onto it as Jack spat on his hand and pushed two fingers in without preamble. 

Rhys screamed. It hurt so much, burned and stretched his unprepared hole but the same time it was exactly what he craved, and when Jack’s fingers pushed against his prostate he screamed again. Pain and intense pleasure both coursed through him, molding into pure want and need as he tried to ground back to those thick calloused fingers while babbling incoherently, begging to be filled, to fucked harder, more, now, dammit Jack, please aaaaaaaaahhh -

His pleading dissolved into moans and cries as Jack pushed into his half stretched hole and immediately set a punishing rhythm, each thrust hard and deep, rocking Rhys against the bar and soon making him come with a strangled yell. Jack fucked him right through his orgasm until Rhys was a whimpering mess of drool and come and trembling limbs. He pulled Rhys up and bit his neck, then with a deep grunt he came too, stilling and pumping Rhys full of his release. 

For a while only their wheezing, panting breaths were filling the silence, then Jack held Rhys’ head with one strong, sure grasp. Jack pressed the buzzing knife to Rhys’ throat with his free hand as the blade reconstructed with an electric hum. Through the haze of pleasure Rhys idly wondered if this would be how he dies in the end, with Jack’s softening cock still up his ass and cum trickling down his thighs; then the sharp burn of the cut blossomed along his neck and his breath hitched as Jack slowly dragged the knife on his skin. He heard words whispered to his ear, low and intense but he couldn't decipher the implication of the tone they carried.

“Remember, you are mine.”

Rhys lay on the floor where Jack had dropped him for several minutes after he heard him leave, before getting his head together and grabbing hold of the bar to pull himself up. He was making a mess, and it was just another thing he’d have to clean up before he could leave. He pulled his pants back up, letting them deal with soaking up the mess leaking out of him so at least it wouldn’t be on the floor, and stumbled to the bathroom to find the first aid kit. There would be rubbing alcohol in there to help clean up the blood of the swallow cut that was starting to dry on him and on the floor where it had pooled next to someone’s drunken vomit. Once his own mess was dealt with, he still had to deal with that, and the regular cleaning. Fun time was clearly over, he thought as he surveyed the pile of dishes waiting for him. He dove into the work, keeping his mind off the encounter so he could actually get his job done, preferably before sunrise. He could replay the memories once he was home in his own bed. As he finally stumbled out on wobbly legs, he touched the bandage on his neck, and remembered Jack’s words. He wasn’t sure whether to look forward to seeing Jack again, but this definitely wasn’t over.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhys checked the time again. He glanced over at the small mirror behind the bar to make sure his shirt collar was still covering the faint remains of the dramatic cut Jack had left him with three weeks before, then sounded out last call. It took a full fifteen minutes to fill all the last orders, but that was fifteen minutes closer to closing, and the work kept him from staring at the clock for a bit at least. He couldn’t wait for his day off to arrive. Not that he had any plans beyond sleeping. Some people found that to be a waste but really, in this skag pile of a town, it was that or the bar, and he would not be caught dead in here on his day off. 

Finally, he could start kicking out the stragglers. Most of them went fairly easy, at least one at each table mobile enough to help their companions to the door. He was left with just one problem. Vasquez.

The man was passed out on the table in a pool of spilled beer and his own drool. Rhys did not remember serving him enough booze to account for that, but figured the man must have started early, when Sasha was still tending the bar. Not that any of them would ever cut him off. Only August had the authority to do that. 

Rhys approached the table with loud steps, hoping it would wake him. Failing that, he kicked the leg of the table. Vasquez jolted upright, a coaster stuck to his cheek. He peeled it off and dropped it into the puddle. “Rhys! Fancy meeting you here!”

Rhys snorted, “Yeah, cause I work here. Get out, Vasquez, we’re closed.”

“I could hang around while you clean up, take you home afterwards. It’s not safe out there at night. They say there’s a serial killer on the loose. Pretty thing like you would be an easy target,” Vasquez suggested. 

“Still not interested. Come on, up and out.” Rhys kicked the table again, standing beside it with arms crossed. 

“You do remember I own half this shit hole, right?”

“How could I forget? You make a point of rubbing it in constantly.”

Vasquez reached out and trailed his fingers along Rhys’ cybernetic arm. “If you were a bit more friendly, I could help you with the money you owe August for these fancy replacement parts.”

“Still not interested. I can work off my debt fine without resorting to sleeping with you. Now would you just get out? Please?”

Vasquez sighed, “Fine. Help me up.”

Rhys stepped closer to the table and leaned over so Vasquez could pull himself up. He expected the man to put his arm around his shoulders. Instead he grabbed Rhys by the back of the head and slammed his head into the table. The sound of the impact echoed in the empty room as Rhys slid to the floor, unconscious.

—-

The pain in his head when he woke was an item of concern. As was the fact that there was a (thankfully clean) dishrag in his mouth. His ECHO eye was reporting no permanent damage when he ran diagnostics, so there was some good news at least. It was definitely going to hurt for a while, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it left a tender bruise beneath his hair. He could tell his hands were bound behind him from the uncomfortable twist in his shoulders, probably with his belt with how it bit into his wrist at the edge, and he was definitely laying in a puddle of beer. So, probably still in the bar. He wasn’t quite ready to face the bright lights, but squinted his eyes open just a bit to confirm. It hurt as much as he expected, and he was right where he thought, uncomfortably laying across the table he had been standing next to. All in all, a very shitty situation and he didn’t have the faintest clue what to do about it. 

Someone grabbed his ass, and he yelped, the sound muffled by the dishrag. He kicked backwards but didn’t manage to connect with anything. His pants were swiftly pulled from him and he regretted having chosen to go commando in his rush to get to work on time. The hands were back on his ass, squeezing both cheeks. A slick finger rubbing cold lubricant into his ass. It was just his shitty luck, crap like this happening to him. Rhys tried to squirm away but of course it was useless, with him being tied up as he was and a firm hand pressing down on him. A warm spurt of fluid splattered across his skin, cooling quickly in the open air. Rhys snickered, relieved, figuring Vasquez was too drunk to do much beyond that anyway. A loud thump behind him drew him out of his thoughts and he realized he could smell blood. 

Warm hands started to smear the liquid on his skin and he heard a familiar voice. “I meant it when I said no one was allowed to touch you, pumpkin. And here you are, tsk.”

“Jack?” Rhys mumbled through the gag. He tried to turn his head to look behind him but a hand on the back of his neck kept him still. 

“Shh, I’m enjoying the view.” Rhys thumped his head on the table. Looked like Jack wasn’t inclined to release him soon. 

“This would have been quite a nice surprise if I hadn’t found a filthy bandit planning to stick his worthless cock in you. Messed up my plans a bit having to kill him, but I couldn’t just let that happen, now could I.” Rhys shook his head, despite knowing it wasn’t actually a question. He was a mixture of relief, and both concern and elation at Jack’s possessiveness. The slow growing heat in the pit of his stomach at those words muffled the low throbbing pain in his skull, but he grew increasingly aware of the throbbing between his legs. Jack continued to talk while groping his ass.

“It would be a waste, letting you go now, wouldn’t it pumpkin? You’re all nice and lubed up, ready for the taking,” he slowly pushed a finger in, out, in again, leisurely toying with the squirming Rhys as he talked on, “and nothing sets the mood better than a good, old fashioned murder. There’s something intimate about about it, cutting the throat of some scum and watching them bleed out, it’s a hands-on experience.” Jack chuckled. 

He pushed the second finger in, then curled them in a way that made Rhys arch off the table with a muffled yell.

“Of course, guns are lovely too, and their efficiency in turning any dispute into a bloodbath is nothing to frown upon. Mmm, you look so good covered with the blood of a fresh kill. And you’ll look even better with my cum all over you,” Jack added. “Gotta mark my territory.” There was a rustle of cloth and the wet slapping sounds of him jerking off while he kept up the rhythm of his fingers up in Rhys’ ass. The easy conversational tone contrasting the gruesome words, interlaced with the occasional catch of breath betraying Jack’s strain; it rapidly pushed Rhys towards the edge. His moans started to gain a desperate edge, turning into high keening whines behind the gag. With a groan Jack reached his peak, emptying himself over Rhys’ back and ass. He pounded his fingers in and out Rhys until he came, twitching and trembling.

The fingers withdrew, leaving only to grab Rhys’ hips with both hands.

“I wanted to be nice and go easy on you, kitten, since you’ve had a rough night, but what can I do. I’m still hard so now I have to fuck you deep and good until your eyes cross. You don’t mind do you? Ah, my bad, you can’t answer can you.” Jack indeed sounded spirited and energetic as he lined his cock to Rhys’ ass and pushed in, setting a quick rhythm.

Rhys bit the rag, ears ringing as he tried to hold on for the ride. His vision started to swim, and he closed his eyes, feeling all his limbs tremble and weaken, with only the hard pounding in his ass anchoring him to reality. The table rattled with the force of Jack’s thrusts, its legs scraping the floor, but Rhys was too far gone to notice. The room was spinning around him, and he felt like he was falling and darkness enveloped him.

—-

There was someone on his bed. He opened his eyes cautiously. It was Jack. Jack was sitting on his bed, next to his head, leaning back against the wall. Handsome Jack. Mass murderer and serial killer, wanted across Pandora, and for a substantial reward at that. Jack knew where he lived, knew how to get in, and apparently had somewhat cleaned him up to tuck him into bed. He still smelled of the booze he’d been laying in, but he didn’t feel sticky at least. 

Rhys shifted position, but stopped when he saw Jack’s eye crack open, a warning frown on his face. Resigned, he went back to sleep. Besides, it was his day off, and there was no where he’d rather be than bed.

It was some time later before he woke again, stomach growling with hunger, and Jack hadn’t moved. He carefully examined the set up and determined what he thought was the best way to get up without disturbing the other man. He started to slide the blanket off his chest. 

In an instant he found himself flipped face down on the bed with Jack on top of him. The arm he’d been moving was twisted behind him in a tight grip, and the sharp edge of a knife pressed against his throat. He struggled to keep his head up, to prevent himself from putting any pressure on the blade. “Jack, wait,” he pleaded. 

“Where do you think you’re sneaking off to, princess?” Jack demanded. “Off to call your boss to tell him you’ve got Handsome Jack over?”

“Just to make breakfast, I swear!” His mind slowly caught up, sleepiness leaving him. “Why would I call work anyway? It’s my day off.”

Jack made a thoughtful noise. He let go of Rhys’ arm, leaving it trapped between their bodies, and grabbed his hair instead, keeping the knife delicately touching his throat. “Alright then, cupcake, you can go make breakfast for us.” He teased the knife against Rhys’ throat before letting it vanish. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t want you to. And I like my eggs scrambled, like your little brain is when I’m fucking you.”

Rhys was grateful his blush was hidden by the pillow Jack shoved his face into as the man climbed off of him. He got up from the bed, grabbing a change of clothes to take to the bathroom with him. Jack followed after him, putting out a hand to stop the door with a shake of his head when Rhys tried to close it. With a grumble Rhys climbed into the shower stall, pulling the curtain closed so he was just a blurry shape. 

“I’ve already seen all your important bits, princess. No need to be modest.” He walked over to the toilet, whistling to himself as he lifted the lid and started to urinate. 

Rhys stopped moving. “Are you seriously doing that right next to me?”

“Is there a problem?”

“The problem is you’re gross.”

Jack chuckled, “Really? You didn’t seem to have any problems with my cock when you were sucking it before.”

“You..” Rhys growled under his breath and finished changing in a hurry, storming past Jack to get to the kitchen. Jack washed his hands and followed, grinning widely. 

A few awkwardly quiet minutes later, and Rhys was stirring the egg and milk mixture in the bowl as he waited for the butter in the pan to heat. Once it was bubbling vigorously, he poured the liquid in and immediately started moving it around with the spatula. In another pan, bread was toasting. He kept glancing back between the eggs and Jack nervously, forgetting about the toast for a bit too long, only remembering when he noticed Jack sniffing at the air. He quickly turned off the burner and slid the slightly blackened bread onto the plates, followed by the finished eggs.

“Smells good,” Jack complimented as he sat at the table. “Other than the burnt toast.”

“Thanks, but that was your fault,” Rhys said, not meeting his eyes as he sat down across from him. “Jack, I’m not complaining, really, but why are you here?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. “Just looking after my things,” he said, too quickly to be believable. Rhys rolled his eyes at him. 

“You didn’t bother last time.”

“I didn’t leave a dead body behind last time.”

Rhys’ eyes widened. “Shit, Vasquez. I hope he was too drunk to remember anything when they pull him out of the New U station.”

Jack shook his head, “He’s not coming back.” 

“What? Guy like him has to be paid up with Hyperion for that.”

“Let’s just say I know the guy who programmed that system. When Handsome Jack wants someone dead, they stay that way.” 

“Well, good riddance.” He bit down on his toast and neither said anything further while they ate. 

“What do you know about your boss’ business?” Jack asked as Rhys stood and collected the empty plates. 

“The bar?” Rhys shrugged. “I've been working there since before August and Vasquez bought it from Henderson.”

“Bought it?”

“Yeah, couple years ago. Henderson was getting out, going to retire to one of the Edens. He said they gave him a good offer. I imagine he’s living on a beach these days. Lucky bastard. Should have snuck off in his luggage.”

“Henderson is dead, cupcake.”

“What? No. Did he try swimming after eating? I warned him about that.”

Jack laughed, “You really have no clue, do you. You are so fricken adorable. August killed him, Rhysie. There was never a deal. The whole bar is being used as a front.”

“For what?”

"Don't bother your pretty head with what you don't need to know." Jack frowned. "I don't know why I told you that much."

Rhys sighed and plopped back in his chair. “Does that mean you have to kill me after all? Things were just starting to get interesting.”

“Interesting? You getting a murder boner, cupcake? Getting all turned on by Jack killing people?”

“It’s not like that… it’s.. I don’t know.” 

“Use your words, kitten.”

A beep from Rhys’ comm interrupted them. “It’s August. Should I answer it?”

Jack nodded but held up a finger to tell him to wait. “You’re going to play dumb, sweetheart. You locked up and left like normal. Can you be a good boy and do that for me?”

Rhys blushed and nodded. He never realized just how much being called a good boy really did it for him. Jack had definitely noticed the effect it had back in their first encounter and was using it against him, the bastard. He answered the call, audio only, on speakerphone. “It’s my day off. Don’t tell me Sasha bailed and you’re calling me in to work, because no.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Rhys?”

Rhys frowned. “August, I think I’m the only one on your staff who /hasn’t/ called you an idiot.”

“Yeah, well...Wait, even Sash?”

“She says it with love. In kind of a fond ‘my idiot’ way. But that’s beside the point. Why are you calling?”

“Why am I on speakerphone?”

“Because my hands are busy, get to the goddamn point or I’m just going to hang up.”

“You didn’t lock up.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow at Jack, who shook his head. “Bullshit. I know how to do my job.”

“Was Hugo in last night?”

“Assquez? Of course he was. What else would he be doing? There’s nothing else in this shitty town.”

“You’re extra bitchy in the morning,” August muttered. “Did you see him leave?”

“He doesn’t pay for his drinks, so no, I wasn’t watching him. I have paying customers to worry about, for which you should be grateful. Someone has to cover the cost of what your asshole partner drinks. August, I’ll say it again, it is my day off, what do you want? Why all the questions about Vasquez? Did he finally steal something you care about?”

“He’s dead.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not heartbroken by the news. It’s surely the shock.”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t be too upset about that. But it’s certainly going to make more work for me, which means more work for you.” Rhys groaned audibly, and August chuckled. “Come in early tomorrow, we’ll go over some things I’m going to need you to look after.”

“Wouldn’t one of the girls be better?”

“It’ll come with a raise,” August offered. 

“Ah, I see you have discovered the magic word. Fine. I’m going to hang up now.” Rhys dropped the comm on the table and looked over at Jack for approval. The smile on the man’s face made him feel a bit giddy.

“You did good, cupcake. But I’ve gotta know, if you hate this place so much, why are you here? You clearly weren’t born on Pandora.”

“I wasn’t planning on being here this long but, well.. Things happen.” Rhys looked at his cybernetic arm with a sad expression, watching it reflect the light as he wiggled the fingers. “Replacement parts aren’t cheap.” With a frown he got up from the table. “I’m going back to sleep. I imagine you know where the door is,” he said, without looking to see if Jack would acknowledge it in any way. At this point he just didn’t care, and had no interest in further conversation about painful memories or his failed plans. He closed the bedroom door behind him and fell onto the bed, burying his face in his pillow. He flipped it over to the side that didn’t smell like Jack, and retreated to the more pleasant world of dreams. Jack hovered outside the door, considering, until the sound of snoring reached him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text between / / is considered italics.

Rhys slept through the entirely of his day off, physical and mental strain catching up with him. He hadn’t reset his alarm so it was the beep of his comm that woke him. He answered with his cybernetics, rather than trying to remember where he’d left the device. “Hello?”

“I remember telling you to come in early, and here I find you not here.”

“Ah shit, August. What time is it?”

“Time for you to get your ass over here. What did you do, drink your day off away?”

“No, was sleeping.”

“You’re boring, Rhys. Hurry up. We’ve got a lot to get done before you take over for the night.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting up,” Rhys muttered as the call cut off. He rubbed his eyes with his flesh hand, pressing the palm into each one to help push back the headache he could feel rising. He really needed to cut down on the head trauma. 

He pushed off the blanket he didn’t remember having and sat up. The dizzy spell passed fairly quick, so he tried standing. It was a slower process than usual but he managed to shower and dress for work without falling over. A quick raid of his medicine cabinet for painkillers, and a couple spare tucked into his pocket for later in a sandwich bag, and he left. 

—

“Tell me again why I agreed to this?” Rhys asked as he stared dubiously at the stack of paperwork. “Cause I don’t believe all this built up in the hours since Assquez kicked the bucket.”

“I believe it was the money,” August suggested. 

“Right. Typical,” he sighed. “Is there some kind of priority to all this… whatever it is?”

“Inventory first. Need to figure out what we need to order.” 

Rhys nodded and followed August out of the office. He paused at the doorway. “What’s this?” He picked up a thin white mask that was resting on the table by the door. He turned it around in his hands and felt like it was familiar somehow. There were stains of dried blood on the inside. 

August looked back and then pulled it from his hand, tossing it back on the table. “It was left on Hugo. Kind of a calling card, I guess. Goddamn psychotic killer.”

“Why keep it?”

August shrugged, “Don’t worry about it. Come on, work doesn’t get done when you ignore it, and if we run out of booze, they’ll eat you alive long before last call.”

“Delightful customers we have. Sure you don’t want Sasha handling this?”

“I..” he hesitated, “I don’t really trust Sash not to screw me over, in the financial sense.”

“How can you do this to me August? That was the perfect spot for a joke at your expense and you ruined it,” Rhys said with an over dramatic sigh. “Making fun of you is one of the few joys in my life. If this new promotion is going to ruin our whole employee-boss relationship, I don’t want it.”

“Funny.”

—

“Rhys?”

Rhys looked up from the papers he’d been frowning over and pulled the end of the pen out of his mouth. “Oh hey Sash, what’s up?”

“Time for me to go, so it’s your turn at the bar.”

“Really?” Rhys glanced over at the clock. “Damn. I’ve barely made a dent in this stuff. Alright, just let me hit the bathroom and grab a snack, I’ll be there before you know it.”

“You got it, boss man,” she said with an exaggerated salute. 

Rhys snorted, “The boss doesn’t have to work the bar. I am just a lowly middle manager. So how’s the crowd?”

Sasha shrugged, “The usual, but August called in some extra muscle to sit out there and look intimidating. He said he’d clear their tab at the end of the night, wants them to look like regular customers.”

“Okay..”

Sasha hugged her arms to herself. “He’s been really tense. Didn’t want to hang around here at all.”

“Is he still coming to walk you home?”

She shook her head. “No, but don’t worry, Fi is still here. We’ll be fine.”

Rhys chuckled, “Yeah, no one would dare mess with her, even in a dark alley.”

“Be careful, okay? Maybe you could get one of the muscle bound idiots to walk you home after close.”

“I appreciate the concern,” he said, smiling, “but I’m really not that worried. It’s not like I live far.”

“You didn’t see what that guy did to Hugo.” She shivered. 

“You did?”

She nodded, “Just a glimpse, then August kicked me out and said to wait for him to call. It was… disturbing. But enough about that, don’t want you freaking out since you’re here all by your lonesome for the rest of the night.”

“How quickly she she shifts from concern to insulting my character,” Rhys said, grinning. “Go on, get out of here. I’m sure I can keep from cowering in the back room.”

Rhys made his quick trip to the bathroom and grabbed an energy bar from the stash in the employee’s room. He fixed his hair in front of the mirror and put on his best customer service face. It would be wasted on most of the patrons, too drunk to notice anything except that their glass was empty. But, it would help him get through the night to remember it was just a job, just a means to an end.

Once everyone was kicked out at the end of the night, he scrubbed at the blood stained floor for another twenty minutes before giving up. “Still gotta be a prick even dead, Assquez?” he sighed. Part of him wondered if this was his fault. If he had done something differently, if he’d just agreed... He imagined Jack slapping him for that thought, and he felt a bit better about how things had gone down. 

“Out out damned spot,” he muttered, washing his mop and his hands in the sink. He wished August or whoever had done a better job of cleaning last night, so he wouldn’t have noticed there were still flecks dried of blood on the floor. Some of them in spots that were not where he remembered Vasquez dying. He couldn’t stop seeing it now. 

Rhys closed the door to his apartment, relocking it, and leaned his head against the door. He wanted a hot bath, something he knew wasn’t even possible in this dump, and his bed. He’d have to settle for a lukewarm shower. At least his bed was reliable. It never let him down, always welcoming him with ruffled sheets and a soft pillow, imported from off world before everything had changed. 

A sound behind him made him jump, spinning round to find Jack sitting on his couch, watching him, and laughing. “You look like shit, princess.”

“Yes well some of us have to work for a living. What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you have a home to go to?” He rubbed the skin around his ECHO eye and grabbed the bottle of painkillers from the cabinet. 

“Your home is my home, cupcake. I own you, remember?” Jack said with a grin. “You agreed to it.”

“I’m not sure horny Rhys should be trusted to make any decisions,” Rhys said as he filled a glass with water and downed the pills. “Besides, I think that would be considered ‘under duress’.”

“Having second thoughts there, pumpkin?” Jack said coldly, frowning. 

“Just about being alive,” Rhys said, rubbing his eye again. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. Just keep the noise down.”

“Not going to make dinner for your guest first?”

Rhys snorted, “If this is your home, you’re not a guest. Make your own.” He started towards the bathroom. 

“Eat something.”

Rhys paused in the doorway. “What?”

“I said eat something, you idiot. You’re just going to feel worse later if you don’t. Those cybernetics of yours need fuel. Didn’t they teach you anything when you got them?” 

“No actually,” Rhys said, and Jack scowled. “I wasn’t really conscious at the time. I don’t even know who did it. And I don't want to talk about it, I thought I made that clear already.” He walked back to the kitchen and grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard, mixing it with milk in his bowl. He sat down at the table to eat. 

Jack slid into the seat across from him. Rhys glanced up, startled. He hadn’t heard him move. “So, how was your day at work?”

“That’s awfully domestic of you.”

Jack chuckled, “August. Is he freaking out yet? Come on, spill.”

Rhys chewed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’d say so. He’s not hanging around any longer than he needs to. And he hired some goons to sit around the bar.”

“They giving you any trouble?”

Rhys thought back to how the one thug had kept looking him over, and decided dealing with the creep factor was better than trying to scrub another body worth of blood out of the floor. “No, it’s fine. They’re waiting for you to either do something or skip town by the sound of it.” He picked up his bowl and drank the leftover milk out of it. 

Jack nodded, “Good. Feeling less bitchy?”

Rhys glanced between his empty bowl and Jack, surprised to find that he did feel better. “Yeah.”

“Good, cause I’ve had a rough day too, and I know just how to work it off.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Rhys laughed. 

—

It was a bit weird, actually getting ready to have sex with Jack, no weapon or blood present, completely sober and in his normal, if overly tired, mindset. Maybe he /should/ get drunk or something, Rhys thought while standing awkwardly in his tiny skaghole of a bedroom, dressed only in the towel he’d used after his shower. He reached into his closet, grabbing the lube he kept there for quality times with his left hand. That’d be a good start, thinking back to the first encounter and the days after that when he tried to avoid sitting down.

Suddenly a hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and bodily threw him on the bed. He landed with an undignified umph, and looked back indignantly, only for the hand to force his face back to the covers.

“You were awfully mouthy back there for someone owned, princess,” Jack’s voice held an amused note despite the threatening words. “I think it’s time to review the points of being a good little toy.”

Rhys was close to replying but Jack tightened his hold on his neck. 

“Tsk tsk no more talking unless I specifically ask you. Understood?” 

Rhys felt it wouldn’t be clever to push his luck more for tonight, so he tried to nod in the vice-like grip.

“Good boy,” Jack purred in his ear and bit down on his neck, hard. Rhys hissed, bucking his hip under the weight on top of him. Damn, it still did it for him, being called that. Especially in Jack’s deep, casually arrogant voice. 

“Good. Though I can find something to gag you with if it’s going to be too difficult for you.” Jack kept up the pressure on him with one hand pinning his flesh arm against his back, the other removing his towel and flinging it away. “I’d rather be able to hear you moaning though.” There was a pause, making Rhys’ breath quicken with anticipation, then warm breath passed over his butt and Rhys nearly came then and there because Jack was licking into him, his tongue hot and insistent. Soon a finger followed it, then two, and Rhys could only grab the sheets with his metal hand and moan, and shake, still half pinned by his flesh arm behind his back, trying to rock back to the wet slide and keep the begging to be fucked, to be filled already, inside his head. It was increasingly hard as Jack kept up his rhythm like someone who could do it all night and most of next day too, and Rhys was glad he was allowed to moan at least. He bit back a wail as Jack slammed his fingers right into his prostate, dissolving into helpless whimpers under the relentless assault. He had no idea he could be tortured with actual pleasure like this but he was close to breaking the rules and starting to beg.

It might be worth it, whatever Jack would devise as punishment, as long as this torture would stop and he’d get the cock he wanted so desperately inside him. He bit his lips, deep sobbing moans building in his throat as Jack continued to leisurely drive him mad. 

He was pretty sure Jack wouldn’t actually kill him at this point. He might manage to do it via sex though, because Rhys would explode with need, and soon.

Jack must have noticed the change of tone to Rhys’ moans because he made a final obscenely wet slurp and removed his fingers entirely. Rhys gasped at the sudden gaping emptiness, all senses heightened to the point of pain. He realized he had screwed his eyes shut at some point, lost in the sensations. Breath coming short, he acutely felt the sweat pooling on his skin, the tiny room hot and fuzzy with the smell of arousal and Jack’s body heat as a bonfire at his back. 

“Tell me princess, do you wanna come?” Jack’s voice reverberated through the warm haze, cutting clear in Rhys’ mind, opening a flood of /yes/ and /please/ now that he was allowed to beg. Jack chuckled. 

“If you want it, you’ll have to work for it.” He slapped Rhys’ buttock like one would do a horse’s, and yanked him up to his knees by his arm. Rhys watched with a dazed hunger as Jack quickly tossed his clothes away, lying across his bed propped up with pillows, his dick hard and ready and oh so rideable.

Jack must been having the same idea because he reached for the lube dropped among the sheets and started to slowly stroke his dick while Rhys watched his unabashedly naked body, mesmerized by the landscape of scars and hard, wiry muscles. He found himself starting to reach out, wanting to trace the lines with his fingers. 

“Turn around, kitten, and hands back,” Jack ordered, breaking Rhys out his spell. Rhys scrambled over the bed, in a hurry as his focus returned to his throbbing cock and frustratingly empty ass. Jack grabbed his belt, and looped it over Rhys’ wrists, secure but not cutting into the blood flow. 

“Up you go,” Jack said, and Rhys fumbled to get into position over Jack’s dick without the use of his hands. Jack helped him out by holding his dick in place for him as Rhys lowered himself down, sighing at the slow stretch and burn and oh yes, fucking finally -

He gasped when he reached the base, full with Jack’s cock and seated on those powerful thighs, his whole body trembling and flushed with arousal. It was hard, not being able to use his hands for balance or leverage, forcing his thigh muscles to do all the work. They soon started to burn and tremble, and Rhys panted with the exertion, moving up and down to get the most friction out of the contact. Jack watched him, hands on Rhys’ hips, but didn’t help him out, content to lay back and enjoy Rhys slowly falling apart on his dick. Only his deepening breaths and occasional groans betrayed his own pleasure, while Rhys was close to tears trying to fuck himself on his dick. Rhys was painfully erect, his own cock red and leaking precum all over Jack’s stomach, and it begged for some attention, anything, and he tried to move faster, force Jack’s cock deeper, he tried to finally come before he dies, now he’d surely die he needed to come so bad, he needed Jack to thrust up into him, quick and deep and hard, and he was whining in the back of his throat, tears leaking from his eyes.

He felt time losing its meaning as he rode Jack, occasionally opening bleary eyes to Jack watching him with a smug, self-satisfied smile and a dark entertainment, but he had to close them again, because it was too much, his skin felt raw and electrifying tremors of pleasure coursed in his veins. The was nothing but Jack’s scent in his nose, Jack’s skin hot under him, Jack’s cock throbbing inside him, and Rhys hadn’t realized his moans were interlaced with high pitched whines of pure want as his focus concentrated solely on the feelings and the next lift up with sore muscles, and the next descending back to send sparks along his spine. 

Suddenly there were Jack’s hands on his hip, his fingers digging in as he grabbed Rhys, and pulled him down on his dick, thrusting up balls deep, and Rhys threw back his head and squeezed his eyes harder and fire bloomed behind his eyelids in rhythm with Jack’s hard thrusts, broken moans and half formed screams leaving him to echo in the room, then Jack’s rhythm went frenzied and he was coming with a grunt, filling Rhys up and tripping him over the edge too. Rhys let out a shout, and spurted semen all over Jack’s stomach, cock twitching and throbbing for what felt like forever. He had never came untouched before, and his only thought before collapsing into a boneless heap on top of Jack was “whoa”.

And that he’d have the worst ever sore thighs the next day.

—-

Rhys held the comm tightly in one hand as he called his employer, resting his head on the other hand, eyes closed. “August, this isn’t working. I can’t keep doing your job /and/ mine. I’ve barely had time to sleep in the last few days, let alone anything else. I can’t keep this up.”

“I don’t want the girls working the close.”

“Then hire someone,” Rhys pleaded. “They can cover the front and I’ll work back here at night so you don’t have to worry about them locking up.”

“I’ll think about it. I’d rather wait till this whole thing blows over before bringing anyone new in.”

“August, at this point I am willing to teach your extra muscle how to pour beer. I don’t think anyone would notice, and they’re not doing anything else.”

August chuckled, “You’re kinda cute when you’re desperate.”

“Don’t go there. Really.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Rhys climbed into the shower as soon as he got in from work. Part of him noticed that Jack wasn’t home, part of him thought it was weird he expected him to be. The rest wanted to wash off the beer that had been tossed at him and collapse in bed. 

He managed to scarf down a meal replacement drink, his mind filling in the order to do so in Jack’s irritated voice as he ran on auto pilot. He didn’t bother putting on his pyjamas before falling face first into the bed. He woke sometime later to the feel of fingers on his skin, tracing the blue lines of his tattoos up his arm. 

Rhys turned his head groggily and though half open eyes made sure it was actually Jack and not a burglar like that one time. He rolled over and Jack raised an eyebrow as he followed the ink across Rhys’ shoulder. “Didn’t really have a chance to appreciate it before. It’s nice. Looks good on you.”

“Mm, figures it helps balance things out a bit against the yellow. I’m freakish enough with these long legs, without factoring in a colourful metal arm to throw things off more.”

“And what legs they are,” Jack said, eyeing them. “Roll over and give me that cyber arm, then you can go back to sleep.” Rhys sleepily did as he was told, rolling awkwardly and nearly hitting Jack before resting his arm across Jack’s lap as he sat on the bed, then thought to ask why. Jack chuckled. “Just going to check your programs, make sure they’re up to date. Not like you know how to look after it.” Rhys snorted, but didn’t say anything. 

Rhys closed his eyes, but he could still see what Jack was doing from the access logs coming up on his ECHO eye. 

“Pumpkin, this isn’t the standard OS.”

Rhys grinned at Jack’s confusion. “Nope.”

“Who’s been messing with your system?”

“Like you said, I’m not from around here. I didn’t go to school to work in a shitty bar. I had plans once.”

“You reprogrammed this yourself?”

Rhys turned to look at Jack, grinning widely. “Yep.”

“You’re just full of interesting surprises. Useful ones too.” Jack typed something into the device he had connected and Rhys’ metal arm smacked Rhys across the face. 

“Ow! What the hell?” He rubbed his face with his flesh hand, searching the logs for any record of what Jack had just done. “/How/ the hell?”

“You’re good kiddo, but not as good as me.” The metal hand took hold around Rhys’ throat. “You might want to fix this backdoor, cupcake. Don’t want anyone playing with my toys.”

Rhys thrashed on the bed, trying to pull the arm away with his other hand while frantically working to block Jack’s access. Jack climbed on top of him, pinning him down, and kissed his forehead. He tapped a button on his comm and the hand released. Rhys gulped in a few deep breaths and closed his eyes as he patched the hole in his security. “I didn’t even know that was there. How did you find it? That looks like it’s stock.”

Jack chuckled, “Hyperion models always come with a little break point. Easier to encourage upgrading when the market is slumping.”

“You learn that from your friend who worked on the New U?”

“Something like that. Learned something new today though.”

“What’s that?”

“You looked really hot strangling yourself for me. Want to do it again?”

Rhys laughed, the sound a bit hoarse. “Not really into the autoerotic asphyxiation thing.”

Jack slid his hand up around Rhys’ throat, not quite squeezing. “No? Only like it when I do it myself?”

Rhys’ eyes widened, pupils dilated, and he knew Jack could feel the answer pressing against him. He nodded anyway. He’d learned over the last few days that Jack liked getting an answer when he asked a question. 

Jack's answering smile could have cut stone. He slowly tightened his fingers over Rhys’ throat, thumb digging into the artery on the side, feeling Rhys' pulse quickening under the pressure. He watched with a burning gaze as Rhys arched into the contact, face flushing red and heaving short gasping breaths, involuntarily struggling to get more air. He watched as Rhys’ eyes began to water, stubbornly keeping them open while his gaze turned glassy, unfocused. He watched Rhys gulping in great wheezing breaths when the pressure relented, minute break too short before he squeezed again, over and over until Rhys rhythmically rocked his hips up and his cock was steadily dripping cum.

Jack sat back to his knees, sweeping an appreciating gaze over Rhys’ flushed body. 

“Tell me, kitten, what do you want next?”

“I want your dick in me.” Rhys was hoarse, still trying to catch his breath, but his reply came instantly, without the slightest hesitation.

“Oh, and are you a good boy?” 

“I will be, for you,” Rhys answered, and the look he gave Jack sent sparkles straight into his cock. Jack’s voice dropped to a low murmur.

“Then show me how good you are, open up for me.” 

Rhys turned and reached for the lube stuffed under his pillow, and opened the tube with shaky fingers. He poured some on his fingers, then raised his ass to give the best view and started to smear the lube around his hole. He immediately went to two fingers, eager to get things going and to please, and judging by the groan and the sound of jerking behind him, he did a good job. He moaned into the pillow, and twisted more to reach back with his other hand too, both flesh and metal fingers pushed in, and he started to stretch himself with quick, impatient movements. The floaty sensation of their previous play left a comfortable buzz in his body, and as that the lightheaded fog cleared from his head, he wanted desperately to get fucked.

He hooked two fingers to the rim of his hole and pulled as much as he was able to do, hissing from the burn of it. He bit his lips, glancing back to Jack, trying to will him to stop staring and start fucking him.

He apparently did it well because Jack suddenly grabbed his hips, tossed him on his back and rammed his dick into Rhys as quick as he could. Rhys shouted, the intense pleasure nearly driving him crazy, and met every deep thrust with his own, until the bed creaked and hit the wall with the force of their frenzied movements. Sweat beaded on them, the air of the room hot and heavy with the smell of sex. Jack grabbed the underside of Rhys’s knees, pulling his long legs over his shoulders and folding him nearly in half as he went back to thrusting with vigor. The new position made Jack’s cock hit his prostate head on, and Rhys was unable to do anything but pant, and moan, and hang onto the sheets as he was falling apart, screaming Jack’s name as he came, Jack following soon. 

He felt sleep quickly approaching, and he wasn’t sure if he dreamed it or actually heard, but he thought he heard Jack murmuring in a low voice “so good, yes, such a good toy for me” before falling into the blissful dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, we couldn't update because Real Life but toiled on the chapters at the background. I mean Miri did. And it's actually finished, so once I can add the smuts and we edit it, we can post the rest too! It's complete at 7 chapters and an Epilogue. - Fish

More than a month had passed since the Vasquez incident, and things had settled into a sort of routine. August had finally relented and given Rhys one of his goons to train, thankfully not the one that he’d still catch staring at him. Rhys wasn’t sure how effective the creep could be if he was too busy watching him to watch the crowd but August had just shrugged off his complaints. 

The new guy couldn’t handle much beyond filling glasses of beer, so they just ran a discount on beer to encourage ordering that, and he’d call Rhys up from the back if anything fancier was needed. The first night had gone off without a hitch, the bandits enchanted by the idea they could buy more booze if they just stuck to their favourite beer. Rhys had finally managed to at least sort out all of the stacks of paperwork and now it was a less intimidating size. He hadn’t seen August in person at all in the past month, but there was always fresh piles of work when he got in. 

Jack disappeared one night while Rhys was at work, leaving the apartment looking like he’d never been there. There was a note though, pinned to the fridge with magnets arranged in the shape of a dick. It didn’t say much, just told him to be good and threats (or maybe promises, Rhys thought) that he’d be back. Rhys slept with it under his pillow, after berating himself for being so pathetic. It was going to make for a very boring, very quiet day off, and he just wasn’t used to that anymore. 

 

A few days later, Rhys was surprised to see August sitting at the desk he himself had been using since he took over the office work. “Hey stranger, been a while since you bothered to show up for work. Thought maybe you got fired.”

“Still failing at being funny,” August replied without looking up. Rhys took a seat in the chair in front of the desk. When August continued to ignore him, he put his feet up on the desk and leaned back. August sighed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Rhys grinned. “Oh yes, but you seem to be sitting at my desk and that makes it difficult.”

“I leave you alone for a bit and you already think you own the place,” August snorted. 

“So what brings you to my office? Not too scared to be here?”

August jabbed a finger at him, “I wasn’t scared, just… busy. Handsome Jack has moved on though. They found his trademark mask on what he left of a body a few towns over.”

“Oh?” So that’s where he’s been, Rhys thought, but Jack will be back, he’d said so. He wasn’t about to tell August that though. 

“Yeah, so it’s back to business as usual.”

Rhys’ face fell. “So I guess it’s back to tending the bar for me. I was getting kind of used to not dealing with drunk bandits.”

“Not quite yet, or at least, not all the time. You’ve done good here, and I still have a lot of other stuff to do. Handsome Jack may have left but Hugo is still dead, that hasn’t changed.“

“Thank goodness,” Rhys muttered, knowing August wasn’t that fond of his departed business partner either. 

August chuckled. “Now I seem to remember Henderson saying you were good with computers?”

Rhys suppressed the flinch he nearly made at the name. “Yeah, I am. Do you ever hear from him? I expected at least a postcard from the beach.”

August shrugged, “Mail isn’t exactly reliable around here.” He got up from the chair and gestured for Rhys to move to it. “I need this fixed like yesterday.”

“It was fine a few days ago, what’s wrong with it?” Rhys asked as he slid into the chair. 

“Every time I try to send something it slows to a crawl.”

“I’ll poke around.”

“No poking, just fixing.”

“Can’t do one without the other. Everything is connected.”

August frowned at Rhys’ tone, then sighed. “Get to it then. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Rhys gave him a shocked look. “How dare you. Get out of my office, I’ve got work to do.” He grinned, and turned to focus on the computer. 

 

He set up a few dummy tester accounts and watched the resources as he sent emails from August’s account to the dummies. There was definitely a spike in the system strain every time. Finding it was going to be the problem. There were a lot of unlabelled processes running. Thrown together bandit tech was nowhere as clean as a fresh, manufactured system. 

After an hour or so he found a small program that looked like it might be the culprit but he couldn’t tell at first glance what it was supposed to do. He isolated it onto an empty external flash drive he found in the desk and restarted the computer with fingers crossed that the program wouldn’t turn out to have been essential for the whole computer to work. Everything booted up smoothly and the previously noticeable lag was no longer noticeable. He let out a sigh of relief and pocketed the drive. He’d try to figure out what that was later. He’d already wasted too much time staring at the pretty but convoluted coding. 

“Done yet?”

Rhys glanced up as August walked in. “Yep, looks like it.”

“What was the problem?”

“Do you want the technical explanation?”

August shook his head. “Not really. Fixed is good enough. Take over out front for the rest of the night, I’m going to be here a while.” 

“Oh? Big plans to work on?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” August said, waving dismissively. 

Rhys shrugged and headed to the front. The goon pouring beer looked incredibly relieved to see him, and when Rhys saw how packed the place was, he could see why. Even with his help it took a while to catch up on the backlog of orders. There was barely any time to think until it was time to close up for the night. Rhys leaned against the bar and rubbed the back of his legs while the goon locked up. It had been a while since he’d had to be on his feet so long without a break. He’d forgotten how annoying it was. 

Clean up went quicker with the two of them, even with the goon’s creepy partner refusing to get up from the table he was at. He kept drinking and watching them work. Rhys was glad to get out of there and head home. 

 

It took a couple days before he remembered the program he’d copied. He found the drive while checking his pants pockets, luckily /before/ starting the washer. He sat down at the kitchen table with a laptop that looked to be made more of duct tape than any other material. After checking that the computer didn’t have an active connection, he plugged in the drive. 

He managed to confirm that the program wasn’t doing anything to harm the system it was in, the lag it caused mostly due to how utterly shitty August’s computer was. Without a connection to anything, it wasn’t doing anything. Satisfied it was safe enough, he transferred the program to his own system so he could get a better look at it. He curled up in bed and projected the code from his cybernetic hand. While he could work with it solely through the augmented reality of his ECHO eye, he much preferred it this way. He gave the program a connection to his personal LAN. Just enough to make it think it had a live network connection to the greater system. Immediately it started doing .., something. Rhys chewed on his bottom lip while glaring at the projection. What /was/ it doing?

He nearly smacked himself in the forehead when he realized how stupidly he was approaching it. He needed to give it something to focus on. It had been spiking when Mail was sent and received. In a closed network like he’d put it in, there was no traffic. He logged out of all his real accounts, cleared his cache, and opened the network. When he sent a mail out of the dummy account he had open, the program immediately latched on to it, making a copy and sending it somewhere else. Rhys threw a tracking tag onto the next mail. Once it left his network, he locked down the program again. It was going to take a while judging by how the signal was bouncing around, and he wanted safe access to his proper system again. That, and he wanted to sleep. It would ping him when the results were in. 

He pondered over the possibilities before drifting to sleep. If someone was spying on August’s business transactions, it might just be a good contact to find. Surely they’d be interested in paying for more useful information. Especially now that they’d lost their bug. It might just be his ticket out of this hellhole. Jack was right, he didn’t belong here. He still had friends up in Helios, if he could afford the trip there. He fell asleep with the image of himself in the shiny offices of the Hyperion realm, with his own desk and a fancy coffee maker nearby.

—-

Rhys laid back on his bed and let out a deep growl of frustration. Two days and he still hadn’t gotten any results on his pet project. He stared at a xor numbly, brain wandering but not getting anywhere with it. He sat up again, threw the laptop aside, and run the fingers of his flesh hand through his hair to push it back into place. He projected the code to his palm and started going through it again. He barely registered the sound of the front door opening. When he heard “Honey, I'm home!” called out in Jack’s familiar voice he decided to ignore it in favour of his current battle with jumps and calls. 

His eyes flicked to the bedroom door for just a second when Jack poked his head in. “Yeah sure, just come in whenever,” he muttered. 

“Like I said, I pretty much own this place,” Jack said with a grin. 

“Funny, I just rent.” He grumbled at the bed shifting as Jack sat behind him. 

“What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Rhys sighed. “Just trying to crack this. Been trying for days and I’m getting nowhere.” 

Jack slid his arms around Rhys, resting his chin on his shoulder. Rhys held up his projection to give him a better view. He thought he could feel Jack frowning. Then suddenly there was a hand in his hair, painfully pulling his head back, and a familiar knife at his throat. The projection vanished as he grabbed Jack’s wrist with both hands. “You little shit,” Jack growled into his ear. “How much have you told your /boss/?” 

“What?” Rhys replied, struggling to push back as Jack started pressing the knife tighter against his throat. His heart pounded in his ears as he took stock of Jack’s ice cold voice. For the first time since they started whatever it was between them, he really, truly feared for his life.

“You have exactly three seconds to explain what you’re doing with my program.”

“Your program?”

“Yes, mine. You’re making terrible use of the few seconds you have left there, pumpkin. You are very clearly the reason I stopped getting updates from it and I am very much not happy about that, in case you couldn’t tell. I did not expect you to be stupid enough to go against me.”

“If I knew it was yours, why would I show you?” It might not have been the most clever thing Rhys could blurted out to plead his case with but Jack’s grip relaxed just the tiniest bit in his hair, and Rhys took that as an invitation to continue. “I thought maybe if I found who planted it there, I could sell them info. I need more money if I’m ever going to get out of here. August is never going to pay me enough to manage it.”

Jack looked at him for a while, his frosty expression slowly replaced by a somewhat amused sparkle. “You’re a clever little thing aren’t you.”

“You wrote it?” Rhys asked cautiously as Jack lowered the knife. Jack nodded and Rhys slowly brought the projection back up and pointed to a section. “What the hell is this piece here doing? ”

Jack snorted. “You are such a goddamn nerd."

"Hey! Come on, it’s driving me nuts.”

"How about shutting up and getting on my dick before I change my mind."

Rhys harrumphed. "You realize I don't want to betray you, right?"

“This is the place where I’d threaten to break that pretty face of yours if you even think of it, but you’d probably get off on that, wouldn't you, you leggy freak.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Uses-a-dead-guy’s-blood-for-lube.”

"Shut up, you got off on it. And he wasn’t completely dead yet. But that’s an entirely different topic from you messing around with my work.”

"If you had told me you were doing it, I wouldn't have touched it."

"Oh? You would have left it alone and lied to your boss?"

"Of course."

Jack raised his eyebrows at Rhys in a way that made Rhys positively uncomfortable. Like he didn’t believe a word he said. "Aww, did someone get attached to ol' Jackie boy?"

Rhys looked away. "I... You, it's just, life wasn't that great before? It's not like there was anything worth looking forward to. But now, I mean the sex is great, and most days I'm pretty confident you won't kill me." Rhys chuckled nervously. "So yeah, I’d rather stick with you, if I get to choose." 

"How romantic."

"You're such an asshole."

"Yeah, but apparently an asshole you're hopelessly devoted to. It's cute. Really."

That earned him an eyeroll. "Devoted, my ass. Now will you either fuck me or explain that part of the code so I can finally get a decent sleep and not think about it all night?" 

Jack laughed, a surprisingly earnest sound, and bit down on Rhys’ neck. “Well since you asked so nicely, I’m sure I can manage both.”

"Just not at the same time for the love of - aaahhhh," the sentence turned into a moan as Jack reached over and unceremoniously squeezed Rhys’ balls through his pants. 

"What's the matter? Don't want to hear about IFchecks while I pound you?" 

"Oh God please just shut up. And you call /me/ a nerd. Surely you can think of something better to do with your mouth than talking,” Rhys said, leaning his head back against the pillows as Jack straddled him. 

“Hmm, something better you say?” 

Jack smirked, and bit Rhys’ neck, hard, then shoulder, trailing stinging bites down on his stomach until reaching his groin, and bit the inside of his thighs. Rhys swallowed a cry of surprise, but couldn’t keep in the moans that followed when Jack swallowed his dick without further ado, alternating between licking around the tip and going down and attempting to suck his brain right through it.

It didn’t take long for Rhys to reach the end, high on the sensation and the idea of Jack’s mouth on him, bucking his hips up into that wet heat, and moaning through his flesh hand in a futile attempt to keep the noise down. A second later, and he was coming in great loads, and Jack swallowed it all while continuing to relentlessly tease his now oversensitive cock. Rhys tried to push at him, to get him to stop, but Jack practically sat on his legs, one arm forcing his hips down into the bed. He glanced up at Rhys, threat flashing in his eyes. Rhys let out a high pitched whine and flopped back to the pillow. Jack’s tongue continued to tease and torture him, pleasure occasionally spiking over the threshold to pain. Wet fingers probed his asshole, and he opened his legs as much as he could with Jack’s weight on him. Jack finally released his half softened cock but Rhys couldn’t get a break with two fingers assaulting his prostate now, pushing him over the edge again. He steadily dripped cum, unable to properly spurt it so soon after his first orgasm, stomach muscles spasming in vain. 

And still Jack didn’t stop. 

Rhys was burning. He tried to get away from Jack’s fingers, and rode them like his life depended on it. Tears gathered in his clenched eyes, and his throat felt raw and dry with his screams and pleads to stop, stop, and don’t stop. He held onto the crumpled bed sheets, thrashing violently from side to side. His whole world narrowed down to the painfully intense pleasure jabbing through his abdomen, then he was coming again, jerking and trembling but not feeling any relief.

Jack removed his fingers with a wet plop but his dick was already there, pushing in easily. Rhys let out a weak cry, and tried to crawl away while opening his legs wider at the same time. Jack didn’t waste any time building up a pace but started to fuck him in earnest. Rhys felt he would burst, it was painful and too much, and not enough. He grabbed Jack’s arms and held onto them for dear life, metal fingers likely leaving marks but he was too far gone to realize or care. He rocked his hips frantically, chasing sensations then flinching away from them, keeping up a constant stream of half incoherent pleas. 

“Can you come for me once more, sweetheart?” Jack’s voice was heavy and breathless in his ears, and Rhys could only whine ‘no, no’ while Jack continued to whisper “Yes, you can, you’re such a good boy, so good for me, come, come for me.” 

Suddenly Jack grabbed Rhys’ legs and lifted them to his shoulders, and with the new reach he fucked even deeper into him, and started jerking Rhys off to the same hurried rhythm. Rhys was unable to even scream, breath catching and all his body spasming with the fourth orgasm while he was barely aware of Jack coming into him with a grunt. He fell back to the bed, trembling and heaving, and Jack let himself drop beside him, running a soothing hand through his sweaty hair. Rhys grabbed him, burrowing into that broad chest until his sobs dried up, and Jack’s low murmurs coaxed him to sleep.

—-

Jack was gone again when Rhys’ next day off came. He took advantage of the unexpected privacy to take a very long shower, singing at the top of his lungs, at least until the hot water cut out suddenly and he squealed mid line. Dried off and dressed in some comfy pyjama pants, he set about cleaning up the place. He saved the stack of dishes for last. There was something soothing about letting your mind wander while working with warm, bubbly water. 

And it was the perfect opportunity for daydreaming too. He wondered if Jack would spank him next time if he asked. Maybe if he asked really nicely. Or if he brought out his secret stash aka his favorite dildo; Jack seemed to enjoy watching him performing sexual acts. He smiled to himself at the possibilities.

A loud bang drew Rhys from his thoughts and he set down the plate he had been drying, tucking the towel into the waistband of his pants for safe keeping. It had definitely come from the front door. He jumped as the sound came again. He glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, settling on grabbing a knife from the magnetic strip above the sink, then crept over to the door. Peering through the peephole showed nothing. He quietly unlocked the door. As soon as he turned the knob it flew open from the weight leaning against it. Panicked, he dropped the knife and caught the falling figure. It took only seconds to realize it was Jack, and that there were smears of blood on his door where he had been leant against. He dragged Jack the rest of the way in then used the dish towel to quickly wipe off the door before closing it. 

When he turned back, Jack had already crawled his way to the couch and was using it to pull himself up. A moment of irritation swam through him at the bloody state of his freshly cleaned carpet before concern took the forefront. “Jack?”

“Hey cupcake, was in the neighbourhood so I thought I’d drop by.”

 

Luckily Rhys was close enough to catch him as he collapsed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wohooo an update! Suck it Real Life Hardships we still rock it! - Fish

Rhys wiped his bloody hands off on his pants before taking Jack’s head in his hands. He activated his ECHO eye scan and started figuring out what he was working with. Lacerations, bruising, definitely a broken rib or two. Some of the deeper wounds were healing but that seemed to be slowing down as whatever Jack had used already tapered off. Most of the active bleeding was from shallower cuts that the healing kit had ignored as ‘less than lethal’ and therefore not a priority. 

He made sure Jack was safety positioned on the couch then rummaged through the back of the bathroom cupboards. He knew he still had some supplies left over from his post surgery care, but whether they were still sealed and good was another question. Gathering anything that looked useful, he tossed it all in the basket that normally held the spare toilet paper, which he had unceremoniously dumped on the floor. He set the basket down beside the couch along with some clean towels. Next stop was the kitchen for a bowl of water. It would do to tidy things up before he put a proper disinfectant to use. 

Jack didn’t stir as Rhys stripped him down, careful not to jostle him too much. He slept through the delicate touches with the damp towel as Rhys washed away the blood. He did not sleep through the application of disinfectant. Instead he woke, hurt and confused, grabbing Rhys’ hair and jerking him back out of pure instinct before he remembered where he was. “What the hell are you doing?” he snarled. 

“Let go, Jack,” Rhys hissed, eyes watering from the tight grip. “You came here for help, so let me help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Bullshit, but you can argue on your ego’s behalf later. I don’t want more blood on my couch.”

Jack pulled Rhys forward, bringing their foreheads together in a somewhat threatening manner. “Fine,” he said, through tightly clenched teeth.

Rhys went back to work as Jack leaned back, watching him warily. It wasn’t long before he’d finished, and was eyeing one particular cut. “I think you might need some stitches.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Theoretically. I’ve read up on it while I was cleaning you up.” He grabbed the emergency sewing kit his mother had given him when he first left for college and peeled off the wrapping. With the help of his ECHO eye and a mechanical arm, it was easier than expected to thread the needle. His mom would have been jealous. He lit a candle off the stove and set it on the coffee table. 

 

“Cupcake? What are you doing?”

“Sanitizing the needle?”

“It looks to me more like you’re setting thread on fire.”

Rhys looked back and swore, blowing out the flaming material. At least Jack was laughing at him now, instead of threatening him.

“Do I need to do it myself, pumpkin?”

“No no, I can do this.” He ran the needle through the flame, then dunked it in the disinfectant for good measure once it cooled. “Do you need anything first?”

“How much booze have you got?”

 

—-

Rhys washed his hands again, watching the blood circle down into the drain. He emptied the bowl of the bullets and bits of glass he’d tossed into it and washed that as well. The few scraps of gauze that were left went back in the cupboard for the eventual “next time”. He would have to buy more from somewhere. Maybe “borrow” some supplies from the bar. That was a problem for tomorrow Rhys to deal with though. He felt dead on his feet, but this was the first time he’d operated on anyone, or treated anything worse than a cut that needed a bandaid slapped on. And he was damn proud of his neat little stitches. They actually looked like the ones he had displayed on his ECHO eye as instructions. 

He grabbed the blanket off the bed, gently laying it over Jack. The man didn’t stir, deep in drunken sleep. Rhys picked up the empty bottle that Jack had dropped when he passed out and set it on the table. With the lights turned out, he headed to bed.

 

— 

Rhys woke with start, shifting from a dream of being crushed to death by an octopus, something he’d only seen once in a school trip to the aquarium as a kid. He still felt like he was there, and he opened his eyes to find out why. Jack was in his bed, tightly wrapped around him. He couldn’t see any way of getting up without disturbing him, and it looked like blood had started sleeping into the bandages already from the movement needed to get here. With a sigh, Rhys consigned himself to being stuck in bed a bit longer. He watched Jack’s peaceful expression until he drifted off again. 

When he woke again, Jack hadn’t moved, but was watching him with a look of contemplation. “How do you keep getting in my tiny bed without waking me up?” Rhys asked. 

“Babe, there’s a lot you’ll sleep through. Kind of surprising really. Maybe a bit concerning.” 

“Does that imply what I think it does?”

“Do you really want me to answer that, or just fuck you till you forget it came up?”

Rhys laughed. “Jack, we really shouldn’t in your condition. You’ll make a mess.” 

“Oh I’ll make a mess of you for sure. What’s the matter? Little blood never bothered you before.” 

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself more.” 

“Aww, isn’t that precious. Your concern is noted and both ignored and overruled in favour of dealing with my morning wood.”

“Your morning wood won't kill you. Moving around too much might,” Rhys argued. “I am not the best surgeon and you’ve still got at least one broken rib.”

“Well then you’ll just have to do all the hard work for once.” When Rhys shook his head, Jack digistructed his pistol and held it under Rhys’ chin. “How about you blow me or I blow your pretty little head off. Does that work better for you?”

Rhys sat up, slipping easily out of Jack’s unusually weak grasp, and glared at him. “I’m not going to risk you bleeding out just because you want to get off.”

Jack looked at the pistol, frowning, then threw it behind himself. It clanked unceremoniously against the wall and dissolved into data again as it slid down. “Usually that would get you into it. I don’t like this concerned Rhys, he’s no fun.”

“Maybe you should have considered that before you got yourself shot all to hell.” 

Jack’s pout was a strange mixture of adorable and utterly ridiculous. More on the ridiculous side, but Rhys had the decency to not laugh in his face. And some distant echo of self preservation instinct, though faint. 

He leaned his head in Jack’s lap, and considered his options.

“If I blow you, promise me you won’t move around too much? I’d hate to see my fantastic needlework go to waste.”

“Who died and made you the boss here, princess? Get on with it, chop chop.”

Rhys snorted but actually he was somewhat interested too. If Jack was that keen on staying in bed longer because of a moment’s pleasure, well, it wasn’t his place to mother him. And it was always fun to have his mouth full of cock.

Thinking of fun, a thought formulated in his head that he could only label as “evil masterplan”. He looked up at Jack’s expectant face and smirked inside. 

Then he started to work.

He carefully lowered Jack’s briefs, mindful of injuries and bandages, then licked a long slow stripe along his cock. Carefully, he sucked the tip in, swirling his tongue around the glands, putting only that much pressure to keep Jack interested while not delivering any relief. 

Jack tried to buck up into his mouth several times, moans getting a desperate edge but clearly his wounds bothered him enough to not be able to do much about it. He threatened and cursed at Rhys, then coughed and nursed his side, and had to lie back and endure while Rhys patiently waited just out of reach. Rhys had to admit, Jack got really creative with his insults and threats, but the rush of power he experienced by having the other at his mercy worth the risk (and he was relatively sure Jack wouldn’t skin him alive with a spoon).

In the end, the rational (worrywart, Jack would say) part of him got the upper hand and he decided to finish his little game before Jack would really injure himself more; and he was quite at the end of his rope too. All the sounds, Jack’s trembling hips and tight clenched fists, made him painfully aroused, so when he started to jerk his own cock off it only took him a few frantic seconds until he gasped and moaned around Jack’s cock, spurting come over the bed. He swallowed around the dick in his mouth, sucked it hard and long, and after a couple of quick bobs of his head Jack was shouting and arching off the bed, coming down his throat in a great hot gush.

In retrospect, the image of Jack trashing on the bed was worth the renewed bleeding and Jack’s complaining through the rest of the day. That, and telling Jack “I told you so”.

 

— 

Rhys gave the cupboards another once over and resigned himself to the fact that he needed to go shopping. Not only was he out of useful first aid supplies, he was out of food. He glanced over at the couch where Jack was reclining with an ECHO tablet. “Hey Jack, I need to run some errands. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Go? Where are you going?” Jack demanded, lowering the tablet as he eyed Rhys. 

“Need to pick up some supplies. I shouldn’t be long,” Rhys said as he put on his shoes. 

"Rhysie, you can't leave me here all defenseless!" 

"Jack, you are so far from defenseless that the word itself has a restraining order against you."

Jack snorted at that and waved him off. “Fine, do your stupid errands.”

Rhys shook his head, deciding not to let himself get drawn into another argument with Jack’s five-year-old’s tantrum mood. 

His short foray into the outside world was mostly fruitful. He had even managed to find a small healing kit. He’d be stuck with instant noodles the rest of the month once Jack left, but he'd survive. He passed off any inquiries by telling the shopkeeper that his arm had been acting up. They had a brief chat about “shitty Hyperion goods” and Rhys went on his way. 

When he got home, Jack was still sitting on the couch reading. Behind him smears of red on the wall read “J4ck wuz h3r3”. Rhys sighed. “What are you, like three?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, princess. What did you bring me?”

Rhys set his bags down and tossed the healing kit to Jack. The man raised an eyebrow, then put it to use. 

“Ahh, that’s the good stuff. Not the great stuff, but still good.” 

Rhys was pleased to notice more colour in Jack’s face. He hadn’t realized how pale he’d been, except how the scar crossing Jack’s face had stood out more against the pale skin than it did now. Now you wouldn’t even notice it at a distance. Up close though... he reached out, stopping when Jack scowled at him. “Does it hurt?”

“Nothing hurts when you’ve got the good drugs,” Jack said, avoiding a direct answer as he stared down at his tablet. 

Rhys shrugged and gathered up the bags to take to the kitchen. 

Fifteen minutes later, he sat a plate of cooked meat and some semblance of vegetables down on the table in front of Jack. Jack took it and was half way through the contents in mere moments. Rhys chuckled, and Jack looked up at him. “You don't need to stand there and watch, I think I can manage. Aren’t you having some?”

“Yeah, I’ve got something in the kitchen.”

“Then go eat it.”

Rhys nodded and left the room, and Jack finished his food in peace. Rhys hadn’t come back yet, so Jack stood with a groan and brought his plate to the kitchen. 

“What the hell is that?” Jack asked when he found Rhys at the table. 

Rhys glanced down at his instant noodles then back up at Jack. “Food?”

Jack snorted, “No, the stuff you gave me was food. That’s just trash.” He grabbed the noodle cup and pulled it out of Rhys’ hand. 

“Hey! Give that back.”

Jack sniffed at the cup, his face twisting in disgust. He poured it out in the sink as Rhys protested. “There, no more excuses. Have some real food.” He opened the fridge and frowned. “I thought you just went shopping.”

“I did,” Rhys said, getting up and grabbing another noodle cup from the cupboard. “But the ‘good drugs’ as you call them aren’t cheap.”

“So what, you spent all your money on drugs and food for me? You’re such an idiot.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it,” Rhys said through gritted teeth. He filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Jack turned the stove back off. “Would you just go back in the other room so I can actually eat something?”

Jack grabbed Rhys’ shoulders, turning him to face him. “Cupcake, I have money.” The “stop being stupid” went unsaid.

“And it’s not going to look remotely suspicious that I suddenly have extra money to spare? I can’t use your money Jack.”

“Why the hell are you so broke anyway? A healing kit shouldn’t eat your entire food budget. Heh. Eat the budget.”

“Debts, remember? Cybernetics aren’t cheap,” Rhys said, waving his arm dramatically. 

“Actually, they are.” Jack grabbed the arm. “You’ve had that what, two years already? This wasn’t even top of the line then. There’s no way you haven’t paid that off.”

Rhys snatched his arm back and held it against himself. “What?”

Jack crowded Rhys against the counter, leaning in close. “You’re getting ripped off, sweetheart. I can prove it if you don’t believe me. I’m sure it’s all in August’s records.”

Rhys stared at empty air for a while, mentally going through notes and bills, before groaning loudly. He clenched his metal hand into a tight fist of anger. “I’m going to strangle him myself.”

Jack burst into laughter, taken by surprise. He rested his forehead on Rhys’ shoulder. “Babe, you couldn’t strangle a dead skag. You’d better let me shoot him a few times for you first so he doesn’t move around as much.”

Rhys huffed, clearly put out by Jack’s dismissal but actually agreeing on the assessment deep down. “Fine.”

"Here's the plan,” Jack said, tracing Rhys’ jaw with the tip of his nose. “I’ll shoot out his knees and when he's down and crying like the little bitch he is, you can use that pretty robot arm he cheated you on to finish off the job. Sound good?"

“Very. I should probably be worried that I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has offered to do for me,” Rhys said, turning to catch Jack with a kiss. “But first, I’m eating my damn noodles.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *raises from the ashes* WE'RE BACK! Happy new year all, have a chapter! I remember promising it some months earlier ^^' but don't worry, Miri finished all the bloody and bantery parts ages ago, and as soon as I can add some sexy spice to the mix, it'll go live. Hang in there, we love you <3

Rhys snuck into the apartment in the wee hours of the morning, and headed for the fridge to grab a drink before bed. His eyes passed over the brown paper bag in the back of the fridge. It was definitely Jack’s, and he wasn't going to poke through it. He just hoped it wasn't a head or something else gross, sitting there next to his cheese. He grabbed the cheese. “Better eat it just to be safe. Can’t let it get contaminated,” he muttered while cutting it up to toss on some crackers. 

 

Snack eaten and drink in hand, he headed to bed, surprised to find Jack there. 

 

“Finally,” Jack said, disconnecting a drive from the laptop he was working on and slamming the top closed. “Come ‘ere, kitten. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

 

“A surprise you say,” Rhys said, setting his drink down on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed in front of Jack. “What is it?”

 

Jack pushed Rhys back with a hand on his forehead. “First you’ve gotta answer a question.” Rhys raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Do you trust me?”

 

Rhys leaned back, sitting on his feet. “Trust you? Surely you know the answer to that by now.”

 

“It’s a simple question, cupcake, so just use your words on this one so we’re clear.”

 

Rhys pursed his lips and thought about it before answering. Did he? Jack hadn’t lied to him in the time he’d known him, at all, had even come to him when he needed help, had offered to kill people for him. Heck, he /had/ killed Vasquez for him. “Yes. I trust you.”

 

“Good. Lay down, put your head in my lap.” Jack smiled as Rhys did what he was told. He leaned over and kissed Rhys’ forehead. He slipped the drive into Rhys’ ECHO port and instructed him to run the file on it. 

 

Rhys ran a quick diagnostic on the file but didn’t find anything suspicious with it, so he decided since at this point he ’d already trusted Jack with his life more times than sanity would dictate, what’s one more thing.

 

He ran the app. At first he felt nothing different, then Jack’s voice spoke inside his head.

 

“Welcome princess, to the Pleasure Palace! Your very own AR experience of the one and only Handsome Jack, brought to you by his own amazing self. Everything Jack - heh, the real Jack, outside - says and does, you will feel amplified, like a moonshot to your cock! Strap in baby, and get ready for the ride!”

 

Rhys blinked open his eyes. Above him Jack looked both eager and extremely pleased with himself.

 

“You wrote me a sex app.”

 

“I sure did!” Jack’s smug voice replied.

 

“With cheesy introduction. You nerd.”

 

“What do you mean cheesy, it’s awesome, like everything I do. So, what do you say?”

 

Rhys pretended to contemplate for a second, like he wasn’t already half hard just from the idea.

 

“Oookay, I’m in.”

 

“Oh no, sweetcakes, *I’M* in.”

 

As soon as Jack said that, with a strange clear emphasis, Rhys moaned, spine arched up in the sudden flood of pleasure. He felt like Jack  _ was  _ inside him, filling him up, but the sensation didn’t concentrate in his groin as it would usually but spread through his whole body, like in a wet dream, a floating diffuse pleasure zigzagging through his nerves.

 

Just one little word, and he was already left panting. 

 

“How do you like it, kitten? Me filling you up with my voice? Don't worry, I will fill you with my big hard dick too, will give it to you just as you like it, I will fuck you breathless. Or should I strangle you a while, making you cry and beg for a single gulp of air? Until your vision blurs and you can't take it anymore?“ Jack’s voice reverberated inside Rhys’ skull, creating a mindspace consisting of echoes of touch and sounds and memories of sensations.

 

Rhys was thrashing in Jack's lap, thrusting his hips in the air, his eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed in concentration. Jack ran an idle hand over his temple, and the fleeting caress had him arch up with a loud gasp and wide glassy eyes. He felt as if he came but he was still hard and hadn’t ejaculated. It was both elevating and completely mind boggling. He wanted more. He  _ needed  _ more.

 

Jack never stopped talking, not when he was fingering Rhys open,  not when Rhys was coming on his fingers. He whispered adorations, growled low threats and always, always the words of possession. Mine mine mine, pulsed in Rhys’ bones and blood. He didn't stop talking while he was fucking Rhys, hard and oh so slow, one leg up on his shoulder to drive his cock as deep as possible, his voice hitching and deep groans tearing up from his chest. 

 

“You enjoy being mine, don’t you? I’ve got you completely ruined, nobody would be able to satisfy you ever again, just me,  _ fuck _ , you feel amazing around my dick, my little slut, only mine.” 

 

Rhys was absolutely gone, whimpering and undulating his whole sinuous body as one virtual orgasm  wrecked him after another to the rhythm of Jack’s voice and body.

 

“Come on now, cupcake, come - hahh - for me,” Jack bit out the command among a series of quick sharp thrusts of his hips and Rhys was coming for real, his voice hitching up to a high keen, splatting his abdomen with semen. He slumped back to the bed, trembling and moaning with the aftershocks. Jack dropped next to him heaving, and for once, he didn't say a word. 

  
  


—-

Rhys woke slowly and stretched, long limbs taking up the full length of the bed. He felt sore and stiff, and quite frankly, better than he had in years. He sniffed the air, puzzled. It was a familiar smell, but one so distant in memory  that he couldn’t quite place it . Before he could find the will to move from beneath the covers, Jack walked through the open doorway, carrying a tray Rhys had forgotten he owned. There were plates on it, piled high with a nearly forgotten favourite. 

 

“Pancakes!” Rhys said, his eyes lighting up at the sight as Jack sat beside him with the food. He let his eyes roam across the tray, licking his lips as he took in the fluffy looking pancakes, the little bowl of syrup, the fruit he hadn’t been able to justify buying for himself since the surgery. 

 

Jack chuckled, passing him a fork. “You’ve been a good boy, Rhysie, and good boys are rewarded.”

 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this but I will happily do it again,” Rhys said as he speared a piece of the fruit with the fork. He dipped it in the syrup, twirling it to gather the sugary liquid. He offered it to Jack, who bit it off the fork. “Is this what was in that brown bag in the fridge?”

 

“You didn’t peek?”

 

Rhys shook his head, “I was worried it was some kind of murder souvenir. They used to say on the news about killers taking trophies or something.”

 

Jack laughed. “I leave things behind, I don’t take them.”

 

“How was I supposed to know? It’s not like you talk about it,” Rhys said with a shrug. 

 

“I’m not sure breakfast is the best time to discuss the details of dismembering someone,” Jack replied, smirking. He cut off a slice of pancake and pushed it into Rhys’ mouth when he opened it to reply. “Instead, why don’t you tell me how a soft little nerd like you ended up stuck here.”

 

Rhys frowned. “You think you’ve unlocked the tragic backstory achievement, do you?” 

 

Jack tapped him on the nose with the end of the fork. “Don’t be difficult, cupcake. We’re having a nice breakfast, aren’t we?”

 

“Fine,” Rhys sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t really hurt to talk about it. It’s just embarrassing.” He took another bite of pancake before they cooled off further. 

 

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Jack elbowed him in the side. “While I do have all day, princess, I don’t have that much patience.”

 

Rhys sighed.

 

“A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, a bouncing baby boy was born on an Eden. He had a perfectly normal childhood, and a boringly average college experience.”

 

“The way you craft a story is just fascinating,” Jack laughed. “Tell me more.”

 

“School was filled with recruiters from all the big corps. Hyperion looked damn good, and Helios sounded like the coolest place in existence.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“So bags were packed and transit secured to Pandora, the gateway to Helios.”

 

“And that’s when things went wrong?” Jack suggested helpfully when Rhys paused. 

 

He nodded. “Helios was on lockdown. Some kind of system quarantine? Never did find out the exact details. But no one was getting out, and more importantly for little Rhys, no one was getting in.” He grabbed his water from the nightstand and drank heavily. 

 

“So what, you ran out of mommy and daddy’s money and had to get a job?”

 

“Yep, pretty much. With Helios locked down, none of the satellites were working so I couldn’t even write home for more. Getting to Helios was supposed to be the easy part. Then I’d shack up with my old college roommate and get the job of my dreams.”

 

“Helios was closed for quite a while, if I remember,” Jack said.

 

“Yes, yes it was.” He stabbed his fork into the last bit of fruit on his plate and used it to mop up the remaining syrup. “So we find ourselves a year later. The doors reopen but the new management up there is more strict so you need approval and a letter of job offer before you go up now.” He ate the fruit slowly, setting his fork down on the plate. 

 

Jack grabbed the tray of dirty dishes and set it down on the floor beside the bed. “So when does the whole arm thing happen?”

 

“A few months after August took over, we were out back of the bar dealing with some pests that had gotten into the trash. There was an explosion. I’m not really sure what happened. It’s all in and out after that. I remember Sasha saying she would make sure August fixed everything, then nothing else till I woke up with a fancy new arm and a not so friendly bill.”

 

“What about the eye?”

 

Rhys smiled a small but fond smile. He did love his ECHO eye. “That was voluntary. I figured it would help a lot if I could deal with the problems with my arm easier, and it would be a big advantage once I finally get to Helios. It’s pretty damn useful.”

 

“It’s pretty in general.”

 

A blush spread across Rhys’ cheeks. “It was actually cheaper than the arm, which should have been a red flag  that August was screwing me over considering it took actual  brain surgery, but I still had to borrow the money for it from him. Sasha helped with convincing him, and I had to agree not to leave town until he’s paid off. And that is why I’m still here.”

 

“So,” Jack said, “basically you got stuck here because you’re an idiot who has no idea how much things cost.”

 

Rhys opened his mouth to dispute it, then closed it again. “Yeah, it’s true. Growing up on a paradise planet sure doesn’t prepare you for this shit.”

 

Jack put his arm around Rhys, pulling him against his side and kissing the top of his head. “Luckily for you that I’m here to tell you what an idiot you are.”

 

“Lucky. Is that what we’re calling it?” Rhys snorted. “What about you? How did you end up… well, killing people I guess. Is that considered a job?”

 

“It is indeed a job. But you haven’t unlocked my backstory yet, cupcake.”

 

“Oh? So how do I do that?”

 

“Blow me. Like, a lot. Just keep at it and I’ll let you know when you’ve made some progress.” He leaned back,  stretching out on the bed with his hands laced behind his head. “I’d tell you that you could start now but I really should get ready for tonight.”

 

Rhys lay on his side, facing Jack, head propped up on one hand. “What’s tonight?”

 

Jack grinned widely. “Tonight, pumpkin, the bad guys get a little reminder that Handsome Jack hasn’t forgotten them.”


End file.
